Who would want to hear what I have to say
When everyone can see that my mouth is young?
My voice is smooth, and sometimes shaky.
Who could trust a body like mine to have seen
into the depth of blue,
Between the clouds,
Past the soil,
And to imagined how warm the court?
To have felt the ghost past me close?
How could I face staring so blankly and wearing such skin,
Have excavated ore from many depths?
Or appeared into any distance knowingly?
But my body hold songs!
My clear eyes see the shimmering flesh,
And oh! The depth of my appetite!
So if you come to my place, I'll invite you in.
And you can blindfold yourself in the house (quickly I move)
And you smell with your nose what I cooked for you,
And I'll describe with my own mouth what I've seen.